


Here I Lie

by modestlobster



Category: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Antoni POV, Bathing/Washing, Gen, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Bastille (Band), M/M, Snark, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modestlobster/pseuds/modestlobster
Summary: Antoni is 'off the wagon', waking up after passing out drunk. Tan is the only one he wants -- and the only one who can -- help him. Tan is his usual sweet self (but not without snark, of course).Paired with Bastille's 'Joy' to round out the flavor profile.Antoni POV.





	Here I Lie

It was actually the pain that registered in my brain first. There were a hundred other things that could have -- and a hundred more things that should have -- normally would have -- woken me up. Like brunch recipes. _Shooting schedule timing._ **_Dogs on Instagram._** But this time, it was pain.

_Thought I'd never be waking…_

My eyebrows furrowed of their own volition. Wherever I had fallen asleep, it was too hard, and I was doing it at the wrong angle, and -- oh, god, the taste in my mouth. I forced my eyelids open through sheer willpower. Guess I still had some of that left, after all.

_…on the kitchen floor_

There was a puddle of bilious soup inches from my nose; and it had spread halfway under the refrigerator. (Bobby was right about this floor being on a little bit of a slant.) I couldn’t smell the glop, though. _Damn._ Both nostrils pretty well blocked. But it probably would've smelled like it tasted -- sour, and definitely not as nice coming back up, as when it had first gone down. Not a lot of foods that do, though.

_But here I lie… _

I slid my cheek a fraction of an inch to find a cooler spot on the tile. My head was still aching. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done this. Drunk too much. Found the bottom of a liquor bottle. By myself.

_Not the first time. _

I couldn’t remember…

_Now my morning has broken… _

…But I _could_ tell you exactly how many days, weeks, months, and years it had been. I have an app for that.

_…and it brings the fear: _

I thought I was past this. Strong enough. Resilient enough. _ Good enough. _

_My mind's falling _…

There’s no such thing when you have an addiction.

_Fallen. _

You have good days, and you have bad days. But relapses happen when you think the war was just the latest battle, and you forget about the fight while you’re too busy celebrating one victory.

_Then I feel my pulse quickening… _

A bad day is only a bad day; until you think that a substance can make it better, that _ it _ can solve the problem, instead of you yourself… _ Then _ a bad day is a day that you relapse.

And when you give yourself access to that substance…

_But regrets can't change anything _

There’s nothing magical in it. Unless you count the time that disappears when you get caught in the downward spiral. I guess that’s almost like time travel. Though not in a good or a fun way.

_Yeah, I feel my pulse quickening… _

The throbbing in my temple seems to be spreading, but… not in a linear, adjacent pattern. It’s in my groin now; and maybe that’s a blood clot; I don’t know what a heart attack feels like; I always think I should google it, but just end up looking at pictures of corgis somehow. It feels unnatural; like this is it.

Oh, _ fuck. _

It’s just --

_When your name lights up the screen _

\-- my phone vibrating.

Tan.

_Tanny. _

_Oh -- joy -- when you call me _

Tanny’s calling.

What do I say…

What _ can _ I say?

_I was giving up; oh, I was giving in. _

Have to answer it. It’ll be worse if I don’t.

He’ll worry.

I swallow.

_Joy, set my mind free _

I tap to answer the call.

_“God,” _ Tan chides straightaway, our usual morning routine, _ “I go away for **one weekend** and you don’t even have the _ **_decency_** _ to ring me first on Monday morning? But no -- I’m **sure** you have a **perfectly acceptable,** Antoni-Porowski-Certified excuse.” _

_I was giving up; oh, I was giving in. _

He sniffed, continuing, _“The flight was dreadful, thanks for asking…” _

_How'd you always know when I'm down? _

Tan hesitated at the silence persisting from my end, _ “…Ant? Everything alright…” _

I had to close my eyes again, to get any of the words out. _“Tanny…_ how… _You always know…_ when I'm down…”

_“Down?”_ Tan parroted back at me, tentative concern in his probing, “_You having a lie-in, angel? Thought you’d have breakfast on the table already…” _

_Take a walk through the wreckage, clearing out my head… _

I had to come clean. He’d be here in a minute anyway, but I needed to tell him… Before he just saw… everything… I needed to say… _ something. _

“You know that thing… that I don’t like to talk about…”

_I hear your eyes roll, right down the phone _

_“Ohh, how **gorgeous** you think I am, and that you’d **definitely** be up for it, if I ever wanted a thr--” _

It was just as well it hurt too much to laugh. “N-no, the _ other thing_, Tanny. The other…”

Keys jangled in the apartment door as Tan let himself inside. He’s always had a copy of my key. Since day one.

“Ant?” Tan chirped cautiously, after he closed the door and reset the lock, unsure what he might find. (He still half-expected the whole QE series was just an elaborate set-up for a prank show, where he was the ultimate arse of some halfwitted yankee doodle joke.)

“Antoni…” He tried again gently, hearing his voice echoing from my phone in the direction of the kitchen. And then, “Oh -- _ oh!” _ and Tan’s kneeling on the ground beside me in an instant. (To his everlasting credit, he is politely pretending that my vomit doesn’t even exist.)

Tan pulled a dish towel from the counter, dabbing lightly at my neck, my cheek, my forehead. He ran his fingers softly through my hair, petting. “So… _ this… _ is what the ‘other thing’ looks like…?”

“Pretty much,” I tried to nod. My eyes tried to leak. “Basically… I'm your walking disaster…”

_“Oh, love…” _ He rubbed my back, steady and slow. “…You’re not really much for walking at the moment, I’d say.”

That little devil-glint sparkled in his eyes; his lips pursed because he was trying not to smirk. Tan never could resist an opportunity for snark.

I groaned. “Thank you for that, Doctor France. No, _ please _ \-- Keep on dragging me…”

“From self-pity?” Tan patted my cheek, lovingly, “Always.”

“Poor me…” I gave him an overly forlorn sigh.

He leant down and whispered in my ear, _ “Poor you.” _

_Then I feel my pulse quickening… _

Tan slid his arms around me and coaxed me up to sit, slumping against the kitchen island. My head swam; a flan that had failed to set. I could tell how bad I looked by the concern in his face.

_But I wouldn't change a thing. _

He stroked my damp hair away from my forehead, waiting patiently until I met his gaze. _ “There’s my boy…” _He murmured, fondness on his lips.

_Oh, joy, when you call me _

_“Come with me, my angel…” _Tan stood himself up and offered his hands down to me. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

_I was giving up; oh, I was giving in. _

Definitely a ‘struggs to func’ moment, but finally I managed to get up and into his arms again. He told me nonsense, while he dragged me through to the washroom, saying anything, just trying to get me to crack a smile.

And --_ damn it _ \-- it was working.

_Joy -- set my mind free _

Tan got me inside and pushed me up against the far wall, perhaps a little harder than intended; the back of my head thumped against the plaster. 

Tan swallowed. “Well… I’m not going to apologise; because you probably deserved that.” He still did a sad-puppy look anyway. Abashed, big eyes. The works.

So, okay. Not-apology accepted.

_I was giving up; oh, I was giving in. _

He needed me propped up against the wall while he undressed me since I couldn’t be trusted to support my own weight unaided. And if he got trapped under a sudden Antvalanche, there was a definite possibility that he might not make it out of the disaster alive.

“How are you doing, my love?” He asked, with such care -- but he already knew the answer -- even before my shirt buttons were undone, dark wash grey jeans slumping at my ankles. My skin was too pale, and shiny from sweat.

_How'd you always know when I'm down? _

I was miserable. And it was all my fault.

But Tanny was here. My saving grace.

“How _ do _ you always know when I'm down?” I had to ask.

His gorgeous eyes considered mine for a long thoughtful moment, before he sighed. “You can lie to yourself, Antoni; you’ll lie to the others. And you happily keep the rest of the world guessing…”

His hand settled on my chest. “But -- for some reason -- you never lie to me.”

My heart pulsed against his touch.

He was right.

_My Tanny’s always right. _

I shivered. He slipped my shirt off my shoulders.

“Now,” He continued, back-to-business daddy, “Speaking of things that _ should _ be ‘down’, we’ll let you sort _ that _ out before you burst yourself.” He gave me a look, then turned to the bath. “I’ll start this, then I should probably make a quick call, and then you can soak your worries away, my love.”

I had to grin to myself while he so politely made as much modesty noise as he could running the water into the tub.

I asked, over the din, “Are you going to tell production?”

“No, just the boys.” He assured me.

Of course. He had to. Someone did.

“What are you going to tell them…” I worried aloud, jabbing the button on the cistern.

Tan dipped his fingers in the wet heat, then turned the water off. He turned, still in a crouch, and playfully plucked the hem of my Hanes. A little something to snap me back to reality. “I’ll just tell them… that you woke up sick.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.” He smiled, standing again. He reached for me and brought me in for a much-needed cuddle. “It’ll be fine, love. You know what they’re going to say…”

_As the night dissolves into this final frame: _

Tan was trying not to giggle as he spoke, “I’ll just be all, _ ‘Antoni was sick!’ _ \--” He shrugged guilelessly, then cleared his throat, “-- and Jonathan will shriek something like: _ ‘EwWwww, Gurl, ohmygod, is it Contagious? Where’s my Vite!-uh!-mins! Where’s! Miss! C!’ _ and then Bobby’s just going to be very, _ ‘…Is he… going to be… able to make schedule?’ _ Maybe with a bit of side-eye. And then Karamo, our dear Karamo,” Tan started nodding empathetically, “You know he's going to be the one to say, _ ‘But is he _ ** _alright_**_? That’s the _ ** _important_ ** _ thing here.’” _ Tan clapped a heavy, serious hand to my shoulder, and I just about lost it.

_You're a sweet relief… _

He smiled. _ “There’s my boy. _My happy boy, yeah?” He steered me to the bath, helping me sink down into the warmth. My eyes closed reflexively as I leant back against the smooth ceramic, and my anxiety started to drift off and settle at the bottom of my consciousness.

_You save me from my brain _

_From my brain _

_From my brain _

_From my brain… _

Tan’s phone made a noise, and he swore at it while he silenced his notifications. A moment later and his bare feet were slipping into the water to either side of my chest, his calf muscles resting against my shoulders. He had quietly (and quite sacrilegiously) rolled his trouser legs up and then perched himself behind me on the bath’s bench seat.

I looked up at him, feeling peaceful, calm. Tan had a blissful, benign smile on his lips.

_“If you could go anywhere in the world, angel, for the rest of your life, where would you choose?” _

_Oh, joy, when you call me _

“Here,” I lied, resting my head against his knee.

_I was giving up, oh, I was giving in _

It was a lie -- because it didn’t have to be _ here_.

_Joy, set my mind free _

It could be anywhere.

_I was giving up, oh, I was giving in _

As long as it was with him.

_I feel joy -- when you call me _

With my Tanny.

_I -- I -- I feel joy._


End file.
